𝐵𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐻𝓊𝓇𝓉𝓈 - (𝐿❀𝑔𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎)

I'm fine

I feel it. Warm and wet trickling from my lips, blood seeping into the pillow my heavy head rests on, staining my hair an off red colour. It's sticky and messy, smearing across my cheeks, dribbling down my chin and dripping over my bare chest. Crimson liquid has already ruined more than one of my shirts, my pillows, my sheets, so what is the point of wearing one? Why should I wear something that will only get ruined with in a matter of minutes because petals covered in red want to force their way up my throat? 

My room is cold. Almost lifeless, joyless and empty. The soft thud of my heart is the only noise that reaches up to my ears. I block everything else out. I don't need to hear anything else. I don't want to. 

The urge to cough my lungs up scratches at the back of my throat, petals and thorns tickle and scrape at my oesophagus, causing a whimper to escape my clamped lips. I hold it. Keep it down with a hard swallow and a gulp. 

No one needs to know.

No one has to see this.

No one will notice

if

I

pretend

to

be

fine...

It's been three days since filming the video with Thomas and the others. Three days filled with nothing but agony and despair. Is it normal for my heart to hurt this much? Is it possible to feel this much pain? The answer must be yes, because if I couldn't... I wouldn't be hacking up petals, flowers, thorns and blood every time I think of a certain someone. Tears wouldn't be staining my cheeks, blood wouldn't be smeared half way across my face, and roses wouldn't be filling my lungs until I can barely manage to breath in a gulp worth of air. 

But the pain is real. My lungs ache. My head hurts. And my heart... is broken. 

But I'm fine.

I have to be fine.

For Thomas.